The Sanctuary
by effulgentcolors
Summary: Henry Swan has a tendency for finding creatures in need. Killian Jones leaves no stray behind. A/N: My Christmas present for @theblacksiren from the @cssecretsanta2k18 - Happy Christmas you all! :*


"Killian! Killian, quick!"

He hears the cries in the hallway first. Then he hears the receptionist's muttering. In between the two, he has already run outside. He sees the mop of brown hair barreling toward him and barely manages to put his arms out and grasps Henry's shoulders, stopping him from colliding with his legs.

The young boy looks up, his eyes big and anxious and pleading.

Killian drops to one knee, opens his fingers and rubs his palms up and down Henry's arms. His eyes keep flicking to the boy's cupped hands but he tries to hold his gaze. He already has an idea of what he will find in both.

Ariel comes to a half behind them.

"You can't just— I'm sorry, doctor Jones."

He glances at Ariel and waves her off with a barely suppressed eyeroll. He has told her time and again that Henry can come and go as he pleases unless he is in the middle of a procedure. He has told her to call him Killian even more times.

"Killian!"

Henry's urgent tone draws his attention back to him and he now inspects the creature in his gentle grasp.

Thank the gods. It's a little bird this time. And it looks like it's actually still alive. The scratches on Henry's hands can testify to that.

"Henry, what did I say about wearing gloves when you—"

"But she was barely moving. She needed help _fast_."

The boy stresses the last word with obvious judgement of Killian's own dilly-dallying and his eyes flash with a determination that he has seen in another pair – green and guarded and fascinating. Killian gets up and ushers him toward his office, looking at Ariel over his shoulder and warning her to hold off any walk-ins for a bit. His next appointment is not for another two hours and he hopes he can manage to set a wing or two and reassure the boy next to him in that time.

"Quite right you are, lad. Let's have a look."

"I'm so _so_ sorry!"

Emma Swan storms into his office without knocking just like she did when he met her four months ago. December has forced her to trade her red leather jacket for a red peacoat and her blonde hair is trapped under a grey beanie instead of flowing freely in soft waves. Her cheeks are a little flushed and, at this point in their unusual acquaintance, he hopes it's entirely from the cold and not from any unnecessary embarrassment.

"Henry. What did I tell you?"

"But mom—"

"Don't "but mom" me! Doctor Jones doesn't run a rescue center here."

"Truly, Swan, it's—"

"You cannot just—"

"But she couldn't get up!"

"She?"

Emma looks around with an expression that Killian has come to understand very well. His face goes through a similar transformation every time he hears Henry's voice in the hallway – worry and sympathy for whatever creature the boy has taken it upon himself to save this time followed by worry and apprehension over _what creature_ the boy has taken it upon himself to save this time.

He'll bet the frog incident is still fresh in her mind as well. Well… "fresh" is probably a bad word choice.

"She will be just fine," he steps aside to show Emma the little bird – one leg and one wing wrapped up and put to rest in the most suitable cage they had on hand. "And Henry continues to prove his uncanny ability to guess an animal's gender at a mere glance."

Emma's lips quirk up despite her irritation. She seemed shocked the first time Killian acknowledged her kid's "superpower" without any hint of sarcasm but none of them are even remotely surprised anymore – by Henry's fascinating intuition or by the ease with which they come together to handle these impromptu rescue missions.

Henry puffs out his chest and Emma is quick to temper her smile and give him a look that clearly indicates that he is not out of the doghouse yet.

"We disinfected and patched up the lad as well," Killian adds calmly but with a chastising look of his own.

The boy's answering glare is betrayal personified. But Doctor Jones is a man of many allegiances when it comes to the people in his office right now.

" _Henry_ —"

"Mom, she needed help right away!"

"Don't you have the gloves in your backpack?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Henry—"

"She—"

"Henry Swan."

The boy's mouth snaps shut. Emma's hands are pressing deep into her hips. The way Killian is leaning back on his desk, arms and ankles crossed, might seem nonchalant but it simply spells more trouble – he is deferring to Emma's judgement – whatever that might be. Henry finally seems to realize his carelessness will not be forgotten that fast.

"How many times has Killian told you to wear gloves when you do this?"

In a last ditch effort, Henry turns his big eyes on Killian who quickly clears his throat and turns to look at Emma instead.

She might have an immunity to the puppy eyes but he has hardly developed one yet. So he falls back on his training.

"He had all his shots last time, right?"

Emma blinks at him a couple of times. Then she shakes her head. Then she nods.

"Yeah, yeah."

Killian nods back, looking for something else to say. He will have two Labradors in here in about fifteen minutes but he doesn't want to see Emma and Henry go just yet.

"We're gonna continue this discussion at home. There will be sanctions."

"Mooom—"

Emma cuts her son off with a look and turns back to Killian.

"You can keep her in the clinic's sanctuary, right?"

It's Killian's turn to blink at her dumbly.

Right. The bird. _The sanctuary._

"Aye, of course."

Emma gives him a look.

"Are you sure? We could—"

"No, no, truly. It's quite alright."

He tries to keep his smile on. He will consider the new feathered problem on his hands later.

"Have you found anyone to take Spitfire, yet?" Henry's eyes are so hopeful and excited but Killian can't bring himself to lie to him.

Anymore than he already is.

"Not yet," he says gently but with the right note of joviality in his tone he hopes. "But I'm sure I will. Who can resist those floppy ears?"

Henry grins. Emma gives him a look that he tries not to overanalyze. It's really soft, but rather sad as well.

"Can I see him tomorrow?"

"Henry," her voice is gentler now as well but there is still the strength and control that a single parent has to maintain underlying it. "You know Spitfire is not here. Killian can't keep going back forth to—"

"But he said I can see him whenever I want if I just said so before," he states with the conviction of a child that has been promised something by an adult and intends to keep them to it for the rest of their lives.

"Aye, that I did. But perhaps Friday?" he suggests, turning to Emma again. "If that will suit you?"

"We're buying a tree on Friday!" Henry exclaims excitedly.

"Fridays is fine, seeing as Henry will be spending tomorrow cleaning his room."

The lad groans and opens his mouth to protest but then seems to consider the punishment mild enough and just rolls his eyes a bit.

"We can stop by before or after the tree farm – whatever suits you best."

"Anytime is fine. All the madness has been scheduled for tomorrow."

Emma gives him a sympathetic look but Henry doesn't waste his time mulling over Killian's workload.

"We can come see Spitfire and then we can all go get trees together."

He sees Emma's mouth form Henry's name once again but she stops herself at the last second. A light sputtering sound comes out instead.

Killian tries to at least temper his grin.

"Now that you mention it, I don't have a tree yet. If I won't be in the way…"

He would feel bad about the way him and Henry turn their pleading gazes on Emma at the same time but… well, as he said, he has formed many allegiances in this room.

"Yeah, sure. I mean, if you want to. You should know Henry takes forever to pick—"

"I do not!"

"But you are welcome to come. If you want."

Killian inclines his head to the side and studies the places where her dimples appear before he nods.

"Aye. I'd like that."

Spitfire is an almost one-year-old mutt with three legs and really floppy years. He is no longer stinky and he is no longer quiet. Emma is glad for both even if the latter is a mixed blessing sometimes.

Henry plays with his very first rescue for an hour in the semi-deserted clinic. Emma complains about her latest skip and the amount of gas she had to spend on the bastard. Killian, in turn, complains about his ever diminishing number of clothes without rips, scratches or bitemarks on them.

Spitfire wanders over to them at some point, insistently pumping his little head against Killian's knee. Killian's hand comes down to pet him and Emma can't help but grin at the sight – his large hand almost covers the dog's whole head. She reaches a finger to trace the latest scar on his skin.

Killian jokes that he sacrificed his left limb to the animal world a long time ago and it shows – his entire hand is covered in scratches and bites in different stages of healing.

"Shouldn't vets know how to avoid these?"

Killian chuckles and looks away. She slips her fingers between his own, just to make sure he knows she means nothing by it.

"Aye, the better ones do."

She gives him a droll look.

"No, truthfully – most of these I got as a civilian. Being careless. Or overly enthusiastic."

"And I thought Henry was bad."

Careless tendencies aside, Killian Jones is a very good vet. So far, he has saved everything her son has thrust into his arms. Except for that frog but that was… Emma shudders and turns her attention to the back of the man hurrying after her overly excited 8-year-old.

Killian Jones is a very good vet. He is also quite the flirt when Henry's back is turned. Emma is usually pretty good at rebuffing guys like that. But Killian caught her by surprise. He was so gentle with all living creatures and so infinitely patient with her kid's heroics that when he first turned those blue eyes on her and said "oh. I see it now. The guardian angel thing runs in the family", his eyebrow going up and his lips following suit, Emma could do little else put sputter and blush and wonder how the hell Henry managed to find the place with the most attractive vet.

"You can't pick just like that?"

"Why the he—" Killian cuts himself off and coughs. "Why on earth not?"

Emma hides her grin. She most certainly doesn't want to encourage him to swear in front of her son just because she has slipped more than a time or two herself.

"Well, how do you know it's the best?" Henry whines, perplexed with Killian's mad way of picking a Christmas tree.

"I don't know if it's "the best" but it's the one I like best."

"But how do you know? You haven't seen them all."

"I don't need to. I like this one enough."

"But—"

"Henry—" she is about to come to his rescue when Killian bends down to gather some snow in his hands.

"Do you need to try all the pancakes in the world to know your mum's are the best before you eat them?"

Henry seems to seriously ponder the question. Emma is just about to laugh and tug him along when something hits her in the shoulder. Her gasp is pure indignation. Killian's grin is pure mischief.

"I've picked my tree, Swan. You two need to get a move on."

She glowers at the pink pointy ears peeking out of his cute hat.

"Come on, Henry. Let's go find _the best_ tree in this lot."

It takes them more than an hour. She hits Killian with a snowball every time he even tries to hint that they could _maybe_ settle for that one now.

"Let me help you carry that inside."

They have already deposited their perfect tree at Emma's apartment and she doesn't see why she shouldn't help Killian carry his inside. He helped her, she drove all the way here anyway – might as well.

The panic in his eyes says otherwise.

"Oh, no, no. No need, Swan, I'll be perfectly fine on my own."

She knows the appropriate thing to do is to shrug and let it go. She has no right to demand entrance to his place. But the _panic._ The hell?

The bailbonds person inside her needs to know. The mother inside her needs to know the guy her son runs to for help every week or so does not have a shotgun collection. The woman inside her needs to know the guy she may have a crush on is not hiding a wife or a girlfriend in his apartment.

She has no right but—

"I insist."

"No, Emma, really. There's no need"

He has never called her Emma before. Her eyes turn colder instead of warmer.

"Killian, I insist."

His eyes snap to hers. He must be able to tell that turning her offer down again will have lasting repercussions. He can tell her off. He can scoff and get out and take his tree off her roof by himself and walk up the stairs and never see her again.

His sigh is one of both defeat and acceptance but his eyes fill with more nervousness than she has ever seen from Killian Jones before.

"Alright then," he shakes his head and gets out of the car.

She debates whether or not to leave Henry to wait in the car. One look at Killian says he will be no help in deciding. He looks like a man on death row. She almost reconsiders and lets him take his tree up by himself. But… Henry spends _hours_ with this man sometimes, if he has any skeletons in his closet – she is doing an inventory.

In the end Killian more or less carries his own tree up the stairs. Emma trudges after him, lightly supporting the tree's top and pretending that her help is essential. Henry bounces impatiently after them, telling them they're killing the tree every time they bump the wall and some needles fall on the stairs.

They reach Killian's door and lean the tree against the wall. He pulls out his key, unlocks and turns to her – the struggle written all over his face. And Emma… Emma is finally about to let him off the hook.

She trusts Killian Jones. He has humoured and spent time with her son more than any other man in their lives and she—

The bark is loud and clear. Killian closes his eyes and sighs deeply as Henry gasps in delight and literally runs past him inside.

"You never said you had— Spitfire!"

Henry's feet are pounding around Killian's apartment. She should tell him to take his shoes off. She is still standing outside. Admittedly, Killian hasn't invited her in so—

Did he take the dog home? When? They've been together ever since—

"Ariel brought him," he mumbles to her silent question.

"And Cuddles?!" Henry's excited voice floats from inside.

And they are still outside. Killian either hasn't opened his eyes for the last minute or he just squeezed them shut again. His shoulders are tense. His Adam apple moves up and down. His eyes finally blink open. They seem weirdly guarded to Emma.

"Would you like to come in, Swan?"

He steps inside without waiting for an answer.

"Killian?" Henry's voice leads her inside. "Is this the clinic's sanctuary?"

Emma rounds the corner to find her son with a little kitten in his arms. A very familiar one-eyed, ginger kitten that she would bet a pretty penny he brought to Killian a month ago. Spitfire bumps into her leg and she looks at Killian. He is already pouring water into way too many bowls.

"Aye, lad. Suppose you can say that."

"Cool."

That's that. That's all the explanation Henry needs apparently. Emma still can't believe she bought "not to worry, Swan, the vet clinic has its own animal sanctuary".

Henry bounces over to one of the _three_ bird cages in Killian's living room to look in on a pigeon whose wing is still mending. Emma looks down at the three-legged puppy at her feet. She looks up at Killian. He is distributing food into way too many bowls now.

"Killian…"

He sighs and sits on the ground at her feet to pet the dog. His dog. Spitfire. Henry's first save.

"I thought it would be just this guy at first," he says and she awkwardly bends her knees to crouch down next to him. "I knew he wasn't getting adopted if we took him to a shelter. And, I mean – what kind of a vet doesn't have a pet, right?"

She doesn't laugh. She watches him stroke the dog's ears.

"And then it was a bird. I thought… it just needs a few weeks to heal and then I'll let it go. Which I did. But by then…"

"He'd brought two more."

Killian huffs out a laugh and she still can't quite wrap her mind around this.

"Honestly, where does he find them?"

She shakes her head. Hell if she knows. She doesn't know how he found Killian Jones either. But damn, is she glad he did.

"Killian? Bitesize peed in the bathroom."

Killian sighs and hangs his head. Then he laughs and nods once as if this makes perfect sense.

"Killian," it's the tone she uses with Henry when she is about to tell him that there's a limit to the amount of jelly beans that he can have. "You can't just…"

His face does something she has never seen it do before. He looks like he is afraid she will tell him that he has to throw all his strays away.

"You can't keep them all."

The hard set of his mouth says otherwise.

"We can take a cat here and there. Or a bird. Probably not at the same time."

His eyes widen a little.

"Just until they get better… you let them go afterwards, right?"

He nods, still staring at her in a bit of shock.

"The birds – aye. One of the cats left on its own when it could hunt again. I think I can take out the lizard in another week."

"You kept the lizard?!"

She is impressed that this is the first time his cheeks tinge pink.

"Aye. I kept all of them."

She opens her mouth. She doesn't know what to say.

Henry runs in. There is a different dog in his arms now – scrawny but definitely less so than the last time she saw it.

"Can we stay for a bit? I wanna try to teach Stick a trick."

She doesn't look away from the blue eyes in front of her.

"Did you at least change the ridiculous names?"

He shakes his head. His expression has softened again. His eyes are laughing. She searches his face for a sign that he wants them to leave.

"Sure, Henry."

The boy whoops for joy.

"I'm buying pizza," she tells Killian.

He opens his mouth to protest.

"I bet all you have is tons of animal food."

He snaps his mouth shut.

She buys pizza. They watch 101 Dalmatians and while Killian is buried under three dogs, a cat and an 8-year-old, she leans over and kisses him.

The next frog is still alive. Killian sweettalks his way into a date while stitching an amphibian leg.

A month later she has two kittens in her apartment. Henry makes her buy more food for the felines than she does for the two of them.

Killian keeps letting the lizard go. It keeps coming back.

The third dog can't be saved. She drags Killian home with them and, after Henry has gone to bed, she gets him just drunk enough that he has to sleep over.

A year later he is sleeping over every other night. He keeps his apartment though. They need the space.

When they start picking out a house, the sizeable yard is non-negotiable. There are squirrels in the trees nearby. Henry is delighted. Killian finds out squirrels scratch like hell.


End file.
